


Cusp

by chicknparm



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Before the Storm AU, Canon will go out the window, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicknparm/pseuds/chicknparm
Summary: Rachel Amber is finally getting the attention and recognition she deserves, so is it a tinge of homesickness that draws her to lanky skateboarding punk Chloe Price? Beginning at an alternate starting point to Before the Storm, this will follow Rachel's time at Blackwell Academy and her changing relationships with her friends, family, and herself, as well as Chloe's struggles to find footing in a world that has continuously let her down. Maybe some other familiar faces will show up along the way, who's to say.
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34





	1. Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for even clicking this story, I've never published fic before so feedback is appreciated. Feel free to like, comment, subscribe, ring that bell etc. More notes at the end.

**Rachel - 2010**

“‘A tempest looms over Blackwell Academy. But not just any tempest, _The Tempest._ Blackwell Drama Club is hard at work bringing one of Shakespeare’s final works to life right here on our campus; with rehearsals every week night, and an ambitious outdoor set-construction beginning this weekend. In an interesting twist on a theatrical tradition, Freshman Rachel Amber has been cast as the lead, as a renamed Prosper _a_ instead of Prosper _o_. When asked about being given such an important role, she had this to say’…Jesus Rach, don’t you ever get sick of people being up your ass all the time?” Victoria tosses aside a copy of the school newspaper.

“Nope.” Rachel says, scrolling on her phone to find the perfect Pandora station.

“Right, let me guess ‘I’m a Leo, I always love the spotlight’” Victoria responds in a faux-posh, husky imitation of Rachel’s voice.

“No. It’s just nice to be recognized. Thought you might understand that, Vic.”

Victoria makes a low, irritated growl but otherwise holds back. It’s never wise to goad Blackwell’s most silver tongued thespian into a passive-aggressive war of words. Light electric guitar melodies fill the air as Rachel Amber and Victoria Chase begin their task in earnest. It seems nonsensical that the prop closet is so far away from the Drama classroom, but the obscure room on the second floor serves as a perfect place for Rachel and Victoria to kill time to avoid being put to harder work. The two fill up box after box of props that seem relevant to _The Tempest_ , with more than a few gag props to amuse themselves as well. After all, if for every staff and sabre they include a singing fish plaque, then they’ll just have to return the extra props later while everyone else is hoisting and hammering the set.

This process seems to have already started, as the sounds of hammers and saws make their way up through the open window of this rather spacious “closet.” Wordlessly Rachel and Victoria agree that they have earned a break, so they sit on a pair of milk crates and watch the common folk at work. Mr. Keaton nervously looks on as teenagers attempt to construct a scaffold on which they hope to build a multi-tiered set. He lets out a piercing yelp as crucial support beam comes crashing down, as does the rest of the structure soon after.

Victoria sighs and looks almost past Rachel. “Do you have a light?” she asks.

“Not on me. You know that shit’s bad for you right?”

“Cut the shit Rachel, you smoke all the time.”

“Yeah, but not cigs. You should try it with me some time, you might actually unwind for once.”

“Not everyone wants to do drugs. Some of us like to remain in control of ourselves.”

Rachel gives a small chuckle. “It’s weed, Victoria. If you’d done it you would know it just makes you happy and hungry…and a little dumb. It’s not like I’m blacking out for weeks on end. Besides, I bet getting high and watching some of those anime you’re into would be hella sick.”

“God, you’re talking about pot and you just said ‘hella sick,’ we’re in Oregon, stop talking like we’re in Long Beach.”

“Look, you can take the girl out of Cali but you can’t take Cali out of the girl. Don’t you miss home sometimes?”

“No.” Victoria sounds particularly cold about that.

“Okay, well I love Long Beach, and I like to bring some chill vibes to this place, is that a crime?”

“Chill vibes? Christ Rachel, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“No, I’ll be embarrassing myself when I watch your cartoons with you and I get so baked I can’t read the subtitles. Tomorrow night?”

“Speaking of drugs,” Victoria deflects, “look at that girl down there trying to toss that fucking plank.”

Rachel looks down and sees a tall blonde girl in torn jeans and a hoodie hauling a massive piece of plywood on her back. She places one end on the ground and pushes the other up, letting two other students catch it where the first layer of the scaffold used to be. She then squats at the other end and lifts it up and above her head, grunting as she does so, and tosses it up to another pair of builders. The girl turns back around and Rachel sees her face glistening, her hair stuck to her forehead, damp with sweat, as she gives a forceful high-five to the stage manager who promptly wipes her hand on her jeans.

“Oh my god,” Victoria continues, “that’s the only wood she’ll ever handle, fucking dyke. She looks like she hangs with the dealers and scumbags, I bet you two would get along.”

Unable to take her eyes off the girl, Rachel ignores the venom coming from Victoria. “Do you know her name? Who is she?”

“The fuck would I know? This is the first time I’ve seen any of the tech people, you know that. Did you forget we’re the _talent_ , Rach?”

“No, I just thought maybe you’d spent more time with them since you’re my understudy and all. Anyway, I’ve gotta pee but you can probably go ahead and start bringing the boxes down, I’ll catch up.”

Victoria tries not to seethe. “Yeah, sure. But if you come back with bloodshot eyes smelling like a skunk you’re on your own.”

Rachel sits in the bathroom and gets to work. She recognized the stage manager helping build the set, Steph Gingrich. She’s a senior, and kind of a nerd, but she doesn’t seem to have the resentment toward actors that some of the other tech crew have. Rachel finds Steph’s Facebook page and adds her, scrolling down her profile. She passes mostly profile picture updates before she finds something she can work with. A few months ago Steph posted a picture of a rainbow Pride flag. The caption read “It’s Coming Out day so hey, I like girls. Shocking I know. Now carry on.”

It’s probably for the best that Victoria doesn’t know any of the tech people then. Rachel plays back their last conversation in her head and cringes at “ _fucking dyke_.” Rachel has always called herself an ally, but should she really say that if she can’t even stand up to her own friends? Besides, she has no problem putting Victoria in her place any other time, but when she pulls out the D Card she chokes up.

Rachel manages to only stare off lost in thought for a few minutes before she regains focus, and checks the Pride picture to see who liked it. She checks every profile before finally getting to one that is completely private. The only things visible are a profile picture which is just the Misfits logo, and a name. Content in her snooping skills, Rachel closes the app on her phone and smirks to herself. “I hope you’re ready to have a new best friend, Chloe Price.”

Rachel makes her way downstairs and out to the quad, formulating her plan of attack. A smooth introduction, naturally, followed by an invite to the next Vortex Club party. Rachel already has pull there, she can certainly get anyone in the door. Especially after how hard that girl has worked to help out with _Tempest_? It’s the least the star can do to show her appreciation. 

As she steps down the stairs from the main school entrance, Rachel sees the girl talking with Steph. She breaks her stride and just watches; her legs frozen and her voice caught in her throat for a second, maybe two. Regaining her composure, she continues her approach when a car horn loudly beeps from the street. The girl, Chloe, dramatically turns away from Steph and calls back to her, saying something about tomorrow, but Rachel can’t hear over the still-droning horn. This isn’t supposed to happen. Rachel Amber doesn’t get interrupted. Her fingernails dig into her palms. Tension rises in her chest but never reaches a boiling point. She’s able to suppress it this time. Rachel decides that this is for the best. A simple hello and how-do-you-do wouldn’t cut it. Where’s the flair, where’s the _drama?_ She can come up with a better plan. For some reason, she wants to impress this girl. And if there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s be impressive.

The recon work needs to start immediately, so Rachel continues her beeline for Steph. “Hey,” she chirps, “is that Chloe Price you were just talking to?”

Steph looks up from her phone, “Oh, yeah. Do you know her?”

“I’ve seen her around school. I didn’t know she was in the crew though. She kicked ass hoisting that wood up there.”

“Yeah,” Steph laughs, “she kicked her own ass. She probably won’t be able to lift her arms tomorrow morning. I offered to help, but that’s just how she is.” 

“I’m in the same boat right now. Vic, my understudy, insisted on carrying all of those props down here. I think she really wants to make a good impression. Between you and me, she’s probably gunning for my role.” Rachel runs her hand through her hair. “So did you guys meet through crew? I’ve never seen her at any other club, or party, or hell even pep rally.”

Steph’s eyes follow Rachels’ hand. “No, uh, actually we just met through being outcasts who ate alone during lunch,” she chuckles, “and she doesn’t do much else, no. Not with anyone from school at least. I keep inviting her to Dun...I mean, to game nights at my house but she hasn’t taken me up on it yet.”

“I’m sorry you guys had to sit alone. Maybe I’ll come join you sometime, would that be okay?” Rachel bats her eyes.

“Y-yeah, sure. That could be cool.”

“So where did Chloe go earlier? I saw her get whisked away by some shitty truck.”

“That was her stepdad I’m pretty sure, but it’s a Friday night so I doubt she’s staying in. She’s probably gonna hit up one of those DIY punk shows the townies like to throw.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been to a few of those,” Rachel lies, “maybe I’ll see her there. Anyway, I bet Vic is struggling with those props. All six feet of her, but she’s a beanpole, I’d better go help her out.” Rachel twirls as she walks away. “See ya later, Steph!”

“Is she really six feet tall?” Steph calls back.

“She wishes.”

Rachel makes her way up the staircase to meet Victoria and sees her struggling to balance two boxes of props, dropping some across the floor and down the stairs. “Ugh! You bitch!” she shouts. “Take some of this shit, I knew you were going to bail on me.”

The pair do a good enough job pretending to work until they are dismissed and return to their dorm rooms. Rachel blows off Victoria’s attempts to make plans for the night, as she has important business to attend to. More sleuthing reveals that there is indeed a DIY show happening in town tonight. She needs to be there, but more importantly, she needs to steal the show. Thinking back to the Green Day and My Chemical Romance concerts she saw as a kid, she begins laying out the punkest outfit she can assemble.

**Chloe - 2010**

_Shit,_ Chloe thinks to herself, _I really need to do laundry._ She looks over her bedroom floor, the certifiable disaster area it is, and begins digging through clothes of varying degrees of stiffness hoping to find something suitable. The clothes she’s wearing now are already damp with sweat, and an evening of beer, weed, and other people’s sweat would make the smell unbearable. She’s in the midst of giving her Bad Brains T-Shirt a cursory sniff when she hears a car door shut outside her window, and soon after an engine revs. David is taking Chloe’s mom Joyce to see a movie tonight. Probably some shitty war movie knowing his taste. But their date night means freedom, and a chance to go out without anyone starting a fight or getting in her way. _Better to ask forgiveness than permission,_ Chloe thinks, _or I’ll probably just tell him to go fuck himself._

Once she sees David’s car pull out of the driveway, Chloe grabs an old tin of mints from her desk, and retrieves from it a half-finished joint she hastily hid this morning. She lights it and takes a drag, holding in the smoke before blowing it out the window. The high hits her stronger and more quickly than she anticipated; her blood still circulating much quicker than normal after her workout. _Steph fucking owes me big time for this. Haven’t had that much exercise since..._ she stops herself. That’s not a road she can afford to go down. Not tonight. Tonight is a fucking party. So she needs to treat it like one. That begins with finding something to wear that’s just shitty enough.

Chloe begins desperately searching under her bed, hopeful to find a shirt that’s only been worn a couple times since the last wash, but only finds the occasional sock, and a shoebox filled with photographs. She begins to slide it out from under the bed, but pushes it back. Not tonight. A horrific sound comes from Chloe’s desk, causing her to hit her head on the bed frame as she comes back up. She massages the back of her skull and squints through the pain to see her phone vibrating against the old wood. She’s got a text.

steph  
hey u still going out tonight?

chloe  
yea just gotta find something to wear

my rooms fucked lol

steph  
uh oh

chloe  
why

steph  
just checking. you know there’s always an open seat at my table…

chloe  
yea I know but why uh oh

steph  
oh, I just think it would be a good idea to try and look nice  
in like a cool badass punk way, you know what I mean  
just put your best foot forward

chloe  
ok steph ill put my best foot forward at the fuckin punk show in greg’s basement  
im sure greg has a strict dress code  
black ties and shit

steph  
now we’re talkin.  
seriously though, I don’t wanna see you stay in just because you can’t find anything nice.  
your folks are gone tonight right? maybe you could try that jacket you told me about…

chloe  
no.

steph  
okay  
I’m sorry

chloe  
its fine.

steph  
you used a period it’s not fine.

chloe  
ok shit but ill be fine  
weed hits a bit different after a workout  
i was pissed at first but u should have me pick up heavy things more often

steph  
I’ll remember you said that…  
but you’re smoking? are you wearing your smoking jacket?

 _Shit._ Chloe rushes to the back of her closet, tears off her shirt and searches for her hoodie folded neatly in the back corner. David’s hard-on for weed means she has to try and quarantine the stink to a select few garments. Can’t have him thinking she’s some “ _pot-head addict_ ” as he puts it. It also means that Chloe has a fresh top that certainly won’t look or smell out of place among Arcadia Bay’s punks. 

chloe  
now i am

steph  
how’s it look?

chloe  
kinda good tbh  
hoodie without a shirt is cool right

steph  
sure!

chloe  
just free wheelin it  
bouncin all over while i mosh  
if someone hits me in the tit ill be pissed tho

steph  
you can take ‘em.

chloe  
fuck yeah i can

steph  
just be safe and have a good night okay? and try and make some friends if you can ??

chloe  
what’s that at the end

steph  
?? ? that?

chloe  
i just see question marks

steph  
you see sometimes people like to use punctuation in their sentences

chloe  
fuck you

steph  
also it was the eyes emoji

chloe  
no emoji!! i have dumb phone

steph  
oh right lol. sorry. but yeah, text me when you’re home, k?

chloe  
k mom

Chloe gathers her wallet, spare keys, spare weed, and lighter. The essentials. She locks up and makes sure the lights are out as she heads to the outskirts of town. The show is at a venue called “The Crow’s Nest”, though to call it a venue would be generous. The sun has set by the time Chloe reaches a house that looks to be in rough shape, and is surrounded by denim-clad teens and twenty-somethings enveloped in a cloud of weed and tobacco smoke. Chloe makes her way into the small crowd and stands around observing conversation before trying to break the ice.

“So, you guys here for Fugaza Strip?” She asks, careful not to look too eager.

A short man with a goatee chuckles, and gestures to the three men around him.

“We’re Jurassic Narc, we go on in ten.”

“Oh, sick.” Chloe pauses nervously. “So do I like, go around the back?”

“Yeah, just make sure you leave us a five in the box, we could all use some beer money after this.”

“Hell yeah, especially in some nothing town like Arcadia.” Chloe responds. “Sucks that college gig cancelled on you guys.”

“Oh you heard about that? Well, I guess you probably heard about Fugaza anyway. Yeah, that sucked. Good thing we’ve got you art school dropouts here to rage with us though, right?”

“Actually I’m still...I mean, yeah, hell yeah. Anyways, have like, a fuckin sick set, man. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you in there.”

Goatee Man gives an amused nod as Chloe rounds the backyard and dutifully leaves the requested five bucks in the donation box before heading in the door directly to the basement. The smell of alcohol and sweat immediately fills Chloe’s nostrils and any self-consciousness leaves her as she exhales. She grabs a bottle of Blue Moon from the back and makes her way to the front. The de-facto stage has two acoustic guitars, a stand-up bass, a microphone, and a washboard on a stool front and center, with a much more elaborate setup behind, being reserved for later. A few minutes and half a beer later, the bearded boys from outside file in and man their stations. They do a final soundcheck with a folk-punk cover Chloe knows (as does the rest of this crowd evidently) and she loses herself in the music, bouncing and pushing off the people around her. David isn’t there. Blackwell isn’t there. Max, well, she’s never there. Neither is her dad, anymore. But they’re gone from her mind for a moment as she screams along to a song she knows, and learns to love songs she’s never heard before and will never hear again.

Jurassic Narc finishes their set, which Chloe did find to be fairly sick, and pack up their sparse setup. Chloe goes back for another beer, her third of the night. A much more professional looking group begins assembling the new stage setup. Electric guitars, amplifiers, and a proper drum kit are all moved up as the frontman starts to banter with the crowd. 

“Hey how we doin’, just wanna shout out the Crow’s Nest for havin’ us on such short notice. We appreciate the hospitality and how down to earth y’all are, even for being a bunch of fruity art school kids.” The crowd laughs, Chloe furrows her brow. “In case you didn’t hear we have the privilege of being here tonight because the pussies over at the State University thought our name was insensitive. Even though they already booked us! Even though the students didn’t care! The faggots in the administration with their tight fuckin’ suits didn’t want anything political on their campus.”

“Oh fuck off!” Chloe lets out, involuntarily.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em!” The frontman calls back approvingly.

“No man, like, fuck you!” Well she’s already going, might as well let it all out. “You think you’re fuckin’ edgy, oh my name’s fuckin’ Fugaza Strip, I talk shit about gay people and tight pants or whatever because I haven’t realized it’s not 2002 anymore. I liked you guys better when you opened for fuckin, Alien Ant Farm.”

A few people nearby laugh, but otherwise the air remains thick.

“What the fuck is this bitch talking about, get her out of here!” He looks around expectantly. “Oh right, I forgot I was in some hick’s basement and not a real venue with real security, I’ll take care of it.” He shoves his microphone stand out of the way as Chloe hears loud footsteps coming down the stairs in the back. The man grabs Chloe by the shoulder and she tries to fight him off. “Get off me!” she yells, struggling to break free. A nervous commotion begins in the crowd as the drunk denizens of the Crow’s Nest try to navigate an increasingly dangerous and tense situation. Chatter begins to rise when a voice from the back cuts through the rest.

“What the FUCK are you doing?”

Chloe looks back and can barely see a puff of hair poking out from the crowd, making its way closer. In a matter of seconds a short, well-decorated woman emerges and gives the man a hard shove. “Get the fuck off of her now, you creep!”

“Bitch!” The man yells, and he cocks back his fist before lunging forward with a punch. The short woman dodges out of the way but Chloe’s reflexes are not exactly at their peak tonight and she catches his fist in her left eye. “Shit!” she yells in a mix of anger and pain. This isn’t the first time Chloe has been hit like this. Not even the first time lately. But it’s the first time she’s had a chance to fight back. She moves to retaliate but the woman steps between them and delivers a swift but forceful kick between the man’s legs. She turns to Chloe. “Let’s get out of here.”

Chloe turns before she leaves and spits at the man as he lays on the ground. He groans and holds up a middle finger as she and the woman leave The Crow’s Nest, but not before grabbing a couple more beers on their way out.

“Shit, dude, you know how to party,” the woman says, stuffing the beers into her backpack.

“What...what the fuck was that? Where did you come from? Do I know you?”

“Do you?” She gives a coy smile. Chloe looks at her face for a second. She’s certainly never lingered for this long, or seen her in the moonlight, but she does remember catching glimpses of these same long, naturally curled eyelashes and full pouty lips in the hallways at Blackwell. Not that she had ever paid much attention of course.

“Wait, holy shit Rachel? Rachel Amber? You look way different from school.”

Chloe looks her up and down once more. A strange pompadour, makeup fit for a mall-goth music video, and a torn leather jacket with far too many unnecessary zippers and tassels over an American Idiot t-shirt is certainly different from the well-put-together American Eagle ad she usually resembled. But Chloe has to admit, she doesn’t look as bad as she probably should. Though she would have stuck out like a sore thumb had she seen her in the crowd.

“What were you doing there anyway?” Chloe continues.

“Partying, same as you. I wanted to see Jurassic Narc but little did I know they’d turn out to be shitheads. C’est La Vie.”

“Actually, that was Fugaza Strip. Jurassic Narc played earlier.”

“Damn. Well at least this night wasn’t a total waste.” Rachel says, jangling the beers in her bag. “Speaking of, I’m not nearly wasted enough to call it a night just yet.”

“Well there aren’t really any other spots to go to right now, Arcadia isn’t fuckin’, swimming in places to throw down.”

“You wanna throw down?! Let’s fucking throw down, bitch!” Rachel says in a deep voice, imitating the man from earlier.

“Too soon, dude, Jesus. This shit is gonna give me a black eye, I know it. What the fuck am I gonna tell my mom.” Chloe rubs her cheekbone, a blackish purple in the moonlight.

“Slipped in the shower? That’s the classic, right?” Rachel sniffs around Chloe, who recoils a bit. “But first you’d need to take a shower to make that believable. Come on, we’re gonna keep this night going, give you your shower and alibi in the morning, and you can tell your mom your brilliant, gorgeous, friend from school had you over for an all-night study session. You’ve got trees, right?”

Chloe struggles to take everything in, her drunk-but-not-trashed brain struggling to process all that Rachel is suggesting.

“What do you mean, trees?”

“Weed.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah I’ve got a bit.”

“Tight. Alright come on then, come with me and let’s get to know each other.”

Rachel starts off in another direction, looking determined. Chloe looks deeper into town towards home. _Not tonight._ She looks back at Rachel and takes some brisk steps to catch up.

“Oh hey, so you’re Rachel Amber, star student, actress, all that shit, everyone knows you.” Chloe’s voice shakes a bit, anticipating the point at which Rachel realizes she’s accidentally picked up a nobody and this all falls apart. Best to go with self-deprecation. She continues, “But like an asshole I didn’t introduce myself even though you saved my ass. I’m Chloe Price.”

Rachel looks her in the eyes with a smirk.

“I know.” She says, and winks.


	2. Milk and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe has to face the consequences of her night out, while Rachel tries to keep everything in balance. Chloe's fears are brought to the surface, trying to figure out Rachel's motivations, and Rachel must navigate the needs of two very different friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for Child abuse, general abusive language, David Being David.

**Chloe - 2010**

The sun gently warms Chloe’s face as she wakes, the sounds of pop music softly making their way to her ears. She opens her eyes, temporarily blinded by the sunlight coming in through the unshaded window, and finds herself on a futon, in an unfamiliar room. Posters of star charts hang on the walls, and the sliding door left ajar reveals a fully stocked closet, the contents of which are probably worth more than Chloe’s house. She looks over to the other, more illuminated side of the room and it clicks back into place. Sitting at a desk, surrounded by palettes, tubes, and other makeup paraphernalia is Rachel Amber, brushing her hair in the mirror. The blonde hair that was so dramatically coiffed last night now flows elegantly down her back; a wide-toothed brush restoring order. 

Chloe begins to sit up, and the metal beneath her makes a terrible creaking sound she is not expecting. “Good morning, I hope the couch was okay!” Rachel says without turning around, far too cheerfully.

“It was fine, I think.” Chloe rubs her eyes, trying to recall last night. “ I think it was more the beer than the bed but I feel like shit. What time is it?”

“Seven thirty.”

“Fuck.”

Rachel chuckles lightly. “Aww, is baby hungover? Did she have too much from her bottle?”

Chloe finally sits upright and manages to swing her feet onto the floor. “I mean yeah, we went to bed at what, three in the morning?” She looks over at Rachel, who is still playing with her hair. “You smoked, like, a lot. Are you still high?”

Rachel finally turns around and smiles at Chloe. She winks and holds up her thumb and index finger barely an inch apart just in front of her nose.

“Besides,” Rachel starts, leaning forward in her chair, “you shouldn’t be worried about that, you need to go take a shower and get ready for your day like the responsible student you are.”

“What?” Chloe panics, frantically looking for a textbook, a pen, any sign that she had planned ahead for class.

“No, Chloe, wait.” Rachel says, shaking her head. “It’s Sunday. You don’t have class. We just need to get you up and clean and going at a reasonable time so our alibi holds up, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Chloe says, sinking back into the couch.  _ Not that it’s going to matter. I could come back smelling like roses and holding a perfect SAT score and they wouldn’t give a shit _ , Chloe thinks. But she doesn’t say it. No, this girl really thinks she’s helping, and Chloe has enough sense to not get in the way of that for once.

Chloe stretches and lets out a deep yawn. Her face scrunches up as the smell of last night’s fun comes rushing back.

“Hey, Rachel?” Chloe begins nervously. “Good plan and all but unless I’m supposed to scrub my clothes down too while I’m in there I don’t think going home smelling like weed is going to help my case very much.”

“Oh don’t worry about it.” Rachel smiles.

“Um, no offense, but I’m kind of worried about it.”

“I’ve got a plan. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ve got a shower caddy all set over there so you can squeeze into my flip flops, go shower, and I’ll have something for you when you get back.”

Chloe looks at Rachel incredulously. “I promise I don’t have foot fungus or anything, for real, go ahead and I’ll sort it out.”

Chloe stands up and stretches her back. She feels little pops all the way up her spine. She really did sleep like shit. When she walks toward the door, sure enough, hanging on a hook she sees a shower caddy loaded with travel-sized shampoo, conditioner, a bar of soap, and a washcloth. On a second hook next to it is the softest towel Chloe has ever felt in her life. She almost wishes she could have slept on that instead. 

“Is this your towel?” Chloe asks nervously. “I mean, should I use-or, I guess, is there one you want me to use?”

“That one’s there for you, silly.”

“Right, shit, yeah. Sorry.”

Chloe slips into Rachel’s flip flops and stumbles over her own shoes as she grabs the towel and caddy and heads out the door.  _ Fuck. _ She scolds herself.  _ Can I please just get through one thing, get one favor, without making someone fucking hate me. _ She neatly tucks her shoes back into place near the door and starts down the hall.  _ Shit, where did she say it was again? _ Chloe paces around the hall, flipping and flapping past dorm room after dorm room before rounding a corner and finally seeing the bathroom. She enters and finds it luckily unoccupied. The typical denizens of these dorms wouldn’t take to well Chloe, she presumes. Blackwell scholarships don’t cover room and board for underclassmen, which means that everyone staying here is either older than her, richer than her, or both. The oddity of the situation is not lost on Chloe as she makes her way to an open shower stall. Next year, if she gets her grades up, there’s an outside chance she could be staying here instead of at home. At that point she’ll be a junior, and if she can keep her scholarship through this year of hell with David hanging around all the time, then the sky would be the limit when she’s here on her own. But for now, she’s an outsider. Here as a guest of Rachel Amber, of all people. How the hell did this happen?

Last night is starting to come back to Chloe. Most of it is still a blur, not because she was particularly drunk (though she eventually was) but because it all happened so quickly. From the gig, to yelling at that shitty guy, to fleeing the scene with Rachel, to suddenly sitting on her bed, passing a joint back and forth and blowing smoke out the window at two in the morning. After fussing with the temperature for a bit Chloe finally steps in and allows the water to wash over her head, and massages what looks like hotel shampoo into her scalp. Every so often she looks back at the door, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for someone to burst in and steal her clothes or something. In her experience, trust leads to bitter disappointment in the best of circumstances. 

Running her fingers through her hair brings back another memory from last night. Of another hand gently doing the same, of a head resting on her shoulder. Chloe scrubs more vigorously now. The more clarity she has the more fucked up this whole situation seems. What does this girl want? What does a Straight-A student, star actress, socialite in the making have to gain from spending time with her moody, miserable ass. Plus there’s that whole line about trusting her, like she’s got some plan in store. She looks back at the door.

Chloe unwraps the bar of soap in the caddy. It has a light and sweet scent to it. Like honey, but not the overbearing kind found in the lotions her mom used to buy. Slowly but surely, the sweat, alcohol, and smoke wash off of her skin and the warm aroma of honey and steam fills the air around her. Her heart rate is finally beginning to slow down when the bathroom door swings open. A tall blonde girl, maybe a half-inch shorter than Chloe, walks past and violently pushes one of the bathroom stalls open. After the toilet flushes, she walks to the sinks and washes her hands. Chloe ducks her head further behind the curtain when the girl looks in the mirror, but the steam seems to be concealing her from the girl’s view.

The mystery girl stares dead-eyed in the mirror before giving a deep sigh and closing her eyes. “Hold it together Victoria,” she says with the practiced tone of a mantra. “You are better than this. You are bigger than this. You will get through this.” She bends toward the sink and splashes some water on her face, and changes her expression several times in the span of a few seconds. She goes from stone-faced, to a scowl, to an obviously fake smile, before finally settling on a smug, barely visible smirk. This is apparently good enough, as she settles on a look, seeming to grow more confident with each step toward the door.

Chloe’s jaw unclenches slightly when the door finally shuts and she knows she’s alone again. She eyes the bottle of conditioner that Rachel left in the caddy. She hasn’t exactly taken the best care of her hair over the last couple years, but if she’s actually going to try to look presentable today she might as well go all the way. After rinsing out the conditioner Chloe shakes her head about and rapidly dries her shaggy hair with the absurdly soft towel. Her hair does feel quite a bit softer than usual, Rachel may be on to something here. Chloe wraps herself in the towel but stops cold before pulling open the shower curtain.  _ Shit. This is where it all goes wrong. This is where I step out the door and that girl yanks the towel away. Rachel will probably have a camera ready and the whole dorm lined up to laugh at me. I can’t believe it, I can’t fucking believe she got me. _ As steam continues to flow around her Chloe picks up the caddy, her dirty, now damp clothes, and heads for the door. 

Her heart races, fists clenching around the caddy. Would it be better or worse to take a swing at whoever is poised to reach for her?  _ Wait, but didn’t Rachel kick that asshole singer last night to get him off of me? Why would she do that just to fuck me over the next morning? Ugh, not like any of this makes sense anyway. _ She takes a deep breath. Then another. And another. It doesn’t seem to be having the calming effect she was going for. Full to the point of bursting with anxious energy, Chloe closes her eyes and slowly turns the handle of the bathroom door. She holds it for a second, pulls it open a crack, and looks outside. The hallway still looks as empty as it did when she came in earlier.  _ Check your corners. _ She shudders as she hears David’s voice in her head. Maybe he has a point, or maybe he’s made her too used to feeling unsafe. Regardless, she does as he says and looks both ways out of the door. Still nothing. She slowly steps out of the door, assesses the situation, and briskly makes her way back to Rachel’s room when she’s sure the coast is clear.

**Rachel - 2010**

“Is this your towel?” Chloe asks. “I mean, should I use-or, I guess, is there one you want me to use?”

“That one’s there for you, silly.” Rachel replies, as calmly reassuring as she can manage. 

“Right, shit, yeah. Sorry.”

Chloe stumbles her way out of Rachel’s room, muttering to herself as she trips over her shoes. Now that she’s no longer distracted Rachel can get back to work piecing together something, anything, that will help this girl. She’s got a nice figure, if a little on the awkward and lanky side, but that’s more an issue of how she carries herself than her build. Her sense of style is...raw, to be polite, but there is something workable there. Raw isn’t bad, it just needs to be refined. The girl doesn’t need to look Vortex Club ready, at least not yet. No, just presentable and photogenic will do; and the way she looked last night but dressed up in a shinier package? That would be perfect.

But first, clothes. Most importantly, Rachel needs to get her new friend a proper outfit. Ideally something that is a bit of a step up from her usual attire, yes, but not something that screams “I have been forcibly Made Over.” For most, it would likely be difficult to think of where to go to snag understated-yet-stylish clothes fit for a five-foot-ten girl in approximately twenty minutes notice, but Rachel has just the source. She grabs her phone and fires off a quick text. Or several.

Rachel   
hey  
vic...?  
u up?

When there’s no reply after a couple minutes, Rachel gives up and hits the “call” button directly. Within seconds Victoria picks up the phone.

“Rach, what’s going on?” Victoria groans. “Why the fuck are you calling me this early?”

“Hey, I sent you like, a million texts, I wanted to make sure you were up before I woke up the whole dorm knocking on your door.”

“But waking me up is A-Okay?”

“Listen, Vic, I need to raid your closet real quick.”

Victoria’s exaggerated chortle is barely audible through the phone, despite her best efforts. “Rachel honey, no offense but you know your ass isn’t squeezing into my jeans.”

“Yeah I know, I just need to look at some stuff, so please let me in when I knock, okay?”

This time there’s a long pause, followed by an emphatic, high pitched sigh. “Okay, fine, but you fucking owe me.”

“I know, thank you so much Victoria.” Rachel says, perhaps a bit too sweetly. “Okay love youuuu, be right there.”

Rachel gives Victoria a few minutes to prepare; she’s going to want to look at least a bit put together after talking a big game on the phone, and she needs to think she’s in control for now. After the head start, Rachel knocks on Victoria’s door and is promptly let in. Victoria’s room has remarkably tasteful decor. Most of the furniture, fixtures, and art have a monochromatic, minimalist aesthetic. That kind of taste must come from being practically raised in an art gallery. 

“So what exactly do you need, Rachel?” Victoria asks, folding her arms as Rachel closes the door behind her.

“I told you, I need to borrow some clothes. Probably just a pair of jeans, a simple blouse and maybe a button-up to go over it. I can get them back to you tomorrow, I swear.”

“Why?” Victoria shrugs her shoulders.

“Why what?” Rachel answers, slowly.

“Why do you need my clothes if they’re obviously not for you? Why should I agree to let you borrow an outfit in the first place?”

“Because you love me...” Rachel begins, gauging Victoria’s response. When she appears unmoved, she continues. “And also because tonight I’m totally going to make it up to you and come over to watch some TV. We haven't taken enough time to just chill since we've gotten here and I feel really shitty about that, you mean a lot to me, Vic." 

Victoria blinks, holding her eyes shut for just a moment longer than normal. She unfolds her arms and instead places her hands on her hips. "Just...promise me you'll get this shit back to me ASAP." Victoria sighs.

"Of course! I can probably get it washed and back to you by tomorrow." Rachel walks over to the closet and opens the sliding door, sorting through various tops, but a long arm reaches out and pushes her hand away.

"Wait," Victoria interrupts, "you never told me what this was all for."

Rachel gives a fake, but convincing laugh. "Oh right. It's no big deal really, it's just another girl who wants to get into modeling needs a better wardrobe for a practice shoot with some photography students. She doesn't have the best selection at home and she's got that tall, statuesque build like you do so I thought you'd be the best person to go to for help. You're a real life-saver, you know?"

“Yeah, I fucking know.” Victoria sighs. 

The two work together to pick out an outfit. Something that’s suitably fashionable for a casual photoshoot, but not too attention-grabbing. Victoria concedes an ensemble she’s willing to part ways with for a day; a plain white tank top underneath a light blue button down, and black jeans. Rachel folds the clothes neatly and gets ready to leave.

“Wait, Rachel,” Victoria stops her. “Before you go, who is the shoot with? Do I know this girl?”

Rachel pauses briefly to think. “No, you probably don’t. She does tech crew and hangs out with all those guys so you’ve probably never met. Trust me though, she’ll wear these well.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Just do me a favor and tell her to come straight to the source next time she wants to mooch, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll let her know! I think she probably just went to me first because she recognizes me from theater, and choir, and clubs, and the other modeling stuff I’ve already done, you know? But after this I’m sure she’ll come see you to say thanks.”

“Yeah. Got it. Anyway, since I’m up I might as well get my day started so if you’ll excuse me I”m going to go freshen up now. Try not to set off any smoke alarms.” Victoria pushes Rachel toward the door.

Rachel winks as she walks into the hall. “I’ll try but I’m just so hot I can’t help it sometimes.”

As she arranges the clothes on her bed, Rachel visualizes this fictional modeling shoot with Chloe. The blue is going to look really good on her, cool colors in general would work really well with her skin tone. Especially in warmer lighting where the contrast can really make things pop. The only issue might be getting that girl a bit of a tan, there’s a chance she could end up washed out, but it’s not like she’s as pale as Victoria so at least the potential is there. Maybe she can bring Chloe tanning sometime soon and do a proper shoot after that. Rachel’s mind continues to wander before she is snapped back to the present by a loud and forceful clang on her door handle.

A second later, rapid-fire knocks on the door follow. Rachel answers and sees Chloe standing in the hall, wrapped in a towel, with her eyes looking like a deer in the headlights. The two stare wordlessly at each other for a moment, before Rachel breaks the silence. “Come in?” She stands aside, disarmed by Chloe’s passivity.

“Thanks. Sorry. I just wasn’t sure.” Chloe stammers.

“Wasn’t sure about what?”

“I..don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s all good, but hey, I told you you could trust me, I got you some fresh clothes over there on my bed.” Rachel sits back down at her desk and opens her laptop. “You’re gonna have to go commando until you get home but as long as you wash the pants before I give them back to Vic I won’t tell.” 

“That’s, um...okay.” Chloe says nervously. Rachel continues to scroll on social media and doesn’t hear Chloe so much as move a muscle. She breaks the awkward silence.

“So do you like majorly hate the clothes or something? I can try and go get something else but Vic will probably be pissed.”

“No, it’s fine it’s just...can I like, could you...fuck, I’m sorry but could I have some privacy? It would be really weird to just change right here.” Chloe struggles to answer.

“Oh shit, yeah sure I’m sorry. I kinda forget not everyone is an actor, we have to be used to changing in front of strangers all the time. I’ll go chill in the hall for a bit, no worries.”

Rachel indeed goes to chill in the hall, playing a game on her phone and planning out the rest of her day. She will need to crack open some books with Chloe and take some pictures for posterity; the girl’s home life doesn’t seem to be the best so hopefully her family will be glad to see her spending time with one of “the good kids.” Once Chloe goes on her way she should probably try to patch things up with Vic, she didn’t seem very happy about loaning out those clothes. Maybe she actually will try watching some anime with her. Victoria puts on her hard, bitchy facade but it probably would make her feel really nice to share something like that without being judged. Well, at least not judged vocally. She might even do it sober, just to make her feel extra special. 

After a couple minutes of daydreaming, the door reopens, and Chloe looks...shockingly good. Not only does her figure fit the clothes well, but she pulls off the tomboy-chic look even better than Victoria does. Rachel begins to get lost in a train of thought about how much better Vic could look if she just took more of her fashion advice, but snaps out of it quickly enough. 

“Bitch, you look so good!” Rachel exclaims, which seems to catch Chloe off guard. “Come on, let’s get out there and put on a show of what good little worker-bees we are.” Rachel grabs Chloe by the wrist and walks with her, nearly dragging her, through the hall and toward the quad outside.

**Chloe - 2010**

Chloe walks through her front door carrying a bag filled with yesterday’s clothes (sprayed with perfume to mask the dank smell), a DVD set Rachel insisted she borrow, some concealer to help hide her bruise from last night’s scuffle, and the rest of the travel-sized shampoo and conditioner she used in the shower this morning. Waste not, want not after all. She’s greeted by the scent of hot oil and beef coming from the kitchen, Joyce must be making chicken-fried steak for dinner.  _ Which means David must be coming over, but his car wasn’t out front, so we’re safe for now.  _ Chloe is a bit parched from walking most of the way home from Blackwell, so she goes to the kitchen for a drink. Joyce is standing over the stove, working on her immaculate-smelling dinner, and her eyes light up when she sees Chloe. 

“Oh honey there you are! You look so nice, where’d you get these clothes?” She beams.

Chloe opens the fridge and looks for something to drink. “Oh, I just borrowed them from a friend. Had an impromptu study session last night so I kinda needed some clothes so I didn’t come home smelling like a bum.”

“Well look at you being responsible and considerate. I must admit Chloe, I half expected a call from the police station at this point but I’m just glad you’re home. I don’t think a phone call would kill you next time though, would it?”

_ Shit,  _ Chloe thinks,  _ if I’m going to lie to my Mom I might as well make sure she’s at least a bit comforted while I’m doing it. _ “Sure thing Mom, sorry about that, the time just kinda got away from me. You know how I get.”

“You’re damn right I do. Now stop letting all the cold air out of the fridge and get whatever you’re getting, then help me with these potatoes, will you? Dinner’s almost done but a little help a little late is better than none.”

Chloe pours herself a glass of milk and goes to tend to the hash browns Joyce has started. She is mid-sip when Joyce reaches across to adjust the burner on the stove and Chloe stumbles back and drops the glass on the floor, shattering it. 

“Aw hell, Chloe.” Joyce sighs. “Go get the mop and broom, and don’t take your shoes off.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Chloe groans.

The door leading from the living room to the garage opens, and David quickly enters, his eyes scanning the scene. He marches toward the kitchen and locks eyes with Chloe.

“What the hell did you just do?” David says sternly.

“Nice to see you too, David.” Chloe responds.

“Do not give me that attitude after you’ve been out all night, all day without a word, making your mother sick with worry, and then you waltz in here like nothing happened and make a mess of her kitchen?”

“I’ve already talked to my mother, David. And she was actually glad to see me, right mom?” Chloe looks over at Joyce, who is looking at the floor.

“Well, a call really would have been nice.” She says after a moment.

“And on to the matter of this mess you’ve made, that you’re now just letting settle into the floor, soaking into the damn grout, what possessed you to throw one of your mother’s good drinking glasses on the floor?”

Chloe scoffs, “I didn’t throw it! I dropped it, Mom just reached across and I-”

“Oh so it’s your mother’s fault now?” David interrupts.

“I didn’t say that! I just lost my balance.”

“Are you drunk? Have you been smoking pot? Are you on drugs?” David steps closer to Chloe, and Joyce begins to step away.

“Oh come on, David, isn’t this a bit much? We’re literally talking about some spilled milk here,” Joyce says.

“She’s a grown woman right? At least she wants to be? She wants us to treat her like one? So she can answer for herself.” David walks over to the corner of the kitchen. “Let’s see what’s in this bag then, let’s see what kind of junk she’s bringing into this house.” 

Chloe attempts to step between David and the bag but he pushes past her. “What the fuck, man! That’s my stuff, I don’t have anything in there, it's just old clothes.” She says desperately. 

“Do not use that language at me!” David snaps, leaning towards Chloe. His eyes dart from Chloe’s, to Joyce’s, then back to Chloe’s before he turns back to the bag. He opens it and begins to paw through. He recoils and flares his nose as the strong scent of Rachel’s perfume hits him, and he tosses Chloe’s clothes aside. 

“Well, what do you see in there?” Chloe asks as calmly as she can.

“Makeup, a movie, some shampoo, yeah. Looks like you must have been real busy.” He tosses the bag aside, near the couch.

“But no bottles of vodka? No crack pipe? No anarchist propaganda?” Chloe grows more confident.

“Now, there’s no need to be rude, Chloe.” Joyce says, placing her hand on Chloe’s shoulder?

“Are you serious? Did you see what I just saw? He just went through my stuff without my consent and threw it across the room! I think that’s pretty rude, I don’t know about you.”

“Chloe, you told me where you were but you never even tried to explain it to him.”

“He never asked! He never fucking asks!”

Chloe picks up her clothes and bag and hastily walks away and up the stairs toward her bedroom. As she passes by the open door she sees a stack of half-unpacked boxes in Joyce’s room.  _ Fuck.  _ She does not have the time to work through all that right now, so she continues on to her room and slams the door.  _ This fucker thinks he can just come in here and act like he’s my dad? He doesn’t know the first thing about being a dad. Dad would’ve never acted like this. I’d never have to lie to him. And he definitely wouldn’t be throwing my shit around the house.  _ Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she takes off her boots and lays down in bed. She grabs her cell phone from her pocket and looks through her old messages. Specifically, she looks through a conversation wherein she hasn’t gotten a new response in nearly a year. If David is really going to be moving in, going to be sharing the same bed that her father once slept in, Chloe needs to talk to someone who can really understand how she feels. She dials the number.

“Please...please Max, please just pick up the phone, this one fucking time...plea-”

A horrendous sound and a robotic voice interrupts Chloe on the other end. “We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected, please han-”

Chloe throws her phone across the room and begins to sob into her pillow.

She eventually hears soft footsteps nearing her door, so she dries eyes and sits up as she hears a light knock.

“Come in.” She says.

To Chloe’s surprise, she sees David opening the door. He shuts it behind him and Chloe tenses up.

“What was that loud banging I just heard.” David says softly, but still carrying the tone of an order more than a genuine question.

“It was just my phone, I got mad, and threw it.” Chloe says dispassionately, bracing herself for the scolding to come. 

“You’ve already broken one thing today, you need to stop taking the hard work your mother does to provide for you for granted. Chloe look at me.”

Chloe obliges.

“Why are your eyes red.”

“I’ve been crying.” Chloe seethes. As if David could understand anyone else’s emotions.

“You don’t seem sad to me. You seem like an obstinate little teenage ball of anger, just like always. I wasn’t born yesterday, Miss. I know why your eyes are red, and I know why you sprayed enough perfume to kill a man all over your clothes,” Chloe looks away. “But for now your mother trusts you.” Chloe snaps her attention back toward David. She’s always hated whenever he’s feigned concern for Joyce. “She doesn’t see much of the harm in what you’re doing. Thinks you’re just a kid. But I need you to hear it from me that I’m going to be moving in here pretty soon, and your little vacation from having a father is going to run out.” 

Chloe snaps and lunges at David, but he grabs her with one hand by the hair and the other by the jaw. “Give me an excuse Chloe. Give me a god damn excuse and I swear I will put the fear of god in you.” David says in a violent whisper. Chloe’s muscles are so tense she feels like she’s about to explode. He pushes her back down onto the bed.

“Joyce is going to kick your ass to the curb so fucking hard when I tell her about this.” Chloe says.

“There ain’t a damn mark on you, kid. Unlike you I actually learn my lessons. And also unlike you, I can find proof, and soon enough it’ll be your own ass you’ll need to worry about.” David calmly walks out the door, and Chloe pounds her fists into the mattress and muffles a scream in her pillow.  _ Nothing fucking changes. Nothing gets fucking better.  _ Chloe spirals, an hour or so later as she changes out of her borrowed clothes.  _ Rachel can put on a costume and be someone else but I’m still a sack of shit. A lone sack of shit no one fucking cares about. _

For tonight at least, she resists the urge to sneak into the bathroom and return to old, bad habits. She does her best to sleep over the sounds of crying, and yelling about a “burnt damn steak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *solid snake voice* kept you waiting, huh? ok so I know I said I wanted this to be out by xmas but...stuff happens oops. anyway I know we've all got time to read right now so lmk what y'all think, I love hearing comments :) as always I couldn't have done it without the help and motivation from [Morven](https://https://chaseprice.tumblr.com/) [vicepoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicepoint) who remains The Best. not gonna play myself by putting a deadline on it, but I do hope to have the next chapter out a bit sooner. hope to see you then!


	3. Gradience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a whirlwind weekend, how do Rachel and Chloe handle what comes next? As Rachel tries to balance all of her responsibilities and outlets, Chloe finds herself overwhelmed by a lack of outlet.

**Rachel - 2010**

Victoria is almost cute when she drops her cool girl act. Of course, when Rachel first showed up to her dorm room this evening it was still all over her like a thick perfume. But now it feels like they’re kids again, sitting on a too-small bed and watching TV. Rachel is trying not to smirk too much as she sees Vic subtly bounce her leg in time with the music in the show. A dim, warm light from a desk lamp is the only other illumination in the room, save the bold and diverse colors coming from Victoria’s flat-screen TV. Rachel briefly looks at the layout and decoration of the dorm room; the walls are tastefully adorned with monochrome photography prints, framed awards, and a letter from some famed photographer she’s never heard of. She thinks of how in another world where she wasn’t the daughter of Seattle art magnates, Victoria would likely have anime posters and figurines on her desk and walls. Then again, were Victoria not the daughter of Seattle art magnates she likely wouldn’t have a dorm room at Blackwell Academy to begin with, and Rachel probably wouldn’t even know she existed. 

“So like, you see how she’s got that cool pink hair,” Victoria starts, forcing Rachel out of her daydream. “And all the Student Council has crazy hair too, but her best friend is normal looking? That’s showing that even though they’re friends they’re so different, and that she’s going to eventually move on to pretty much only hanging out with the Council.” Victoria says, looking at Rachel expectantly. 

“Are you sure it’s not just because they’re important characters and she’s not?” Rachel asks absentmindedly.

“Well yeah, that’s what I just said, but it’s on purpose, and they actually make it part of the story! I told you this was way deeper than Sailor Moon. Plus since it wasn’t that popular it hasn’t been butchered by censors bringing it over to America.”

Rachel tries to focus more on the show, fumbling with Victoria’s pillow to occupy her restless mind throughout the course of the next few episodes. Despite the seemingly nonsensical structure and dialogue, she actually begins to get a bit more curious about what she’s seeing.

“So that blue chick, the one with the stopwatch, she’s totally into Judy right?” Rachel asks slowly, only realizing the can of worms she’s opening after she says it.

“What? Ew, Rach, that’s a guy, Miki is a boy.” Victoria turns toward her to explain. “And her name is  _ Juri _ , not ‘Judy,’ these subtitles aren’t perfect.” Relief, it seems like Rachel dodged the bullet. She feels somewhat emboldened, and a touch ashamed that she was briefly afraid of what Victoria was going to say.

“Okay, well forgive me for not automatically assuming someone with short hair and no tits wasn’t a boy, I happen to have a friend who fits that description.” Rachel winks and nods toward Victoria’s chest.

“You are such a bitch. Whatever. Anyway, do you wanna keep going with the show? Isn’t it fucking cool?’

Rachel is a bit taken aback. It’s not like Vic to shrug off something like that. She shifts a bit on the bed, leaning back and spreading out more. 

“I dunno, Vic. You’re gonna have to work a little harder to convince me cartoons aren’t dorky as hell. Besides, being into this stuff doesn’t mesh at all with your whole artsy photographer shtick, does it? If you really think it’s so cool why don’t you wear it on your sleeve more?”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “When’s the last time you picked up a skateboard? Don’t tell me you suddenly find that shit boring, but that’s not the Vortex Club’s vibe, is it?.”

Rachel sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, is it so crazy to think I’ve grown up a bit?” The DVD menu repeats and Victoria forcefully clicks the remote to shut the TV off. 

“What? You? Grown out of your stoner hippy shit? Not likely. God, I expect you to do your whole actress thing with everyone else but could you at least cut it out with me?”

Rachel looks at Victoria, wide-eyed. “I’m wounded that you’d think I’d be anything less than genuine with you, my most dearest, most oldest, most blondest friend.” Rachel dramatically reaches out her hand for Victoria, who angrily pulls away and stands up from her bed. Rachel giggles and rolls onto her back. “Oh come on,” she whines, “what’s with you, you used to be fun.”

Victoria looks away and says under her breath “ _ And you never used to treat me like an idiot.” _

Rachel continues looking up at the ceiling. “Snark all you want, my little weeaboo, but it seems like you’re projecting. I don’t skate because I got bored of skating. It’s not because I’m worried about it being  _ cool _ , if I wanted to skate, I’d  _ make _ skating cool at this place. If I was into anime, I’d make anime cool. Have a little confidence, Vic. A little self-assurance.”

The condescension drips off every word, and Victoria stands tapping her foot, eyes closed as she tries to keep her cool. She takes a breath and opens her mouth to chew Rachel out, but stops herself short of an outburst. “Yeah, I bet you could do all that.” She says, as calmly as she can. “You’re not doing that though, and I think we both know why. It’s nice that you came over tonight Rach, but I think we should call it a night.”

“Yeah, you need your beauty sleep and all, I get it.” Rachel sighs as she sits up with a smile. “We’ll hang out again soon, ‘kay? G’night Vic!” She winks and opens the door to leave as Victoria looks up wordlessly at the ceiling.

A few days later, It’s Wednesday afternoon, and the first dress rehearsal for The Tempest is coming to a close. The hours drag by, as half of the cast struggle to recall their lines off-book, and most of those who had memorized the script simply recite the archaic English in a bored, singsong pentameter. As has become the norm, Rachel shines. Prospera’s passion and ambition seems all the more dynamic and explosive as she shares scenes with lifeless automatons at best, and anxious teenagers whose most frequent refrain is “line?’ at worst. The one thing that could be considered worthy or Rachel’s performance is the costume and set design. People can say whatever they want about the techies, but they sure do know how to make a scene look good. Mr. Keaton, the director, gives his final critiques for the night, and they’re to be expected. Everyone needs to be off-book, everyone needs to understand their characters to give more feeling to their lines, and Rachel...well, Rachel can maybe hit that one line in Act two a bit harder. Rachel barely conceals a smirk as he says this; she knows it’s just to make it seem like there’s something, anything to criticize in her performance. She’s carrying the production, and everyone knows it.

Rachel changes and puts away her costume and she feels a vibration in her pocket. She pulls out her phone and sees that she’s gotten three text messages, all from the same person. 

Sarah English   
hey rachel, r u free right now?   
hellooo I gotta ask you about something   
ok well pls get back to me asap bc this is IMPORTANT

Sarah sits next to her in English class, but they’ve never really talked about much aside from work. Rachel occasionally proofreads her essays (they’re not very good) in exchange for her notes on certain days, but what could she have to say that is all-caps “IMPORTANT?”

Rachel   
heyy! what’s up?

Sarah English   
i went to a vc meeting tonite bc you said they were cool and fuckin meaghen was asking where you were...it seemed like she rly wanted to talk to u >.>

Rachel briefly feels a rush of excitement swell up within her. Meaghen Bailey is the president of the Vortex Club, but they’ve barely spoken outside of introductions at the first mixer meeting of the year. Usually Meaghen is too busy to hang around with freshmen like Rachel and Sarah. If she’s asking one freshman about another freshman, something must be up. Maybe Rachel accidentally did something to embarrass the club? But that’s not likely...maybe she’s just made a good impression and Meaghen wants to commend her, or maybe even recommend her for a higher position in the club? Either way, Rachel needs to find out.

After sending it through the grapevine that she would be heading to the Vortex Club office right away, Rachel walks through the halls of Blackwell as quickly and confidently as she can while maintaining her usual poise. She keeps her nerves under control and reminds herself that she is talented, she is charming, she is beautiful, and she has no reason to feel anything other than total confidence. This is Arcadia Bay after all, she certainly lives up to any standards they can hold around here.

She reaches the office and opens the door, hiding her surprise and gracefully clearing the way for a couple upperclassmen who were just leaving. There are a few seniors still mingling, but the obvious center of attention, sitting on a counter in the back of the room, is Meaghen Bailey. Meaghen sees Rachel walk in and a sly smile spreads across her face. She slides off the counter and begins to walk over, effortlessly flipping her chocolate-colored hair over her shoulders. Her small red heels clack against the tile, which reflects fluorescent light on her bright, easter-ready outfit; she looks like she was pulled directly from an after-school special or a college brochure. Rachel matches her smile, and steps over to a desk to meet her.

“Racheeel! Oh my god that’s so cool that you showed up, so Cheryl got ahold of you okay?” Meaghen says with the enthusiasm most would reserve for a long lost sibling. Rachel’s face lights up in kind.

“Yes! I’m so sorry, I had rehearsal for the play or I totally would’ve been here for the meeting, what did I miss?”

“Well, the how and why is pretty hush-hush,” Meaghan says, looking around to make sure no one is eavesdropping, though Rachel suspects everyone else in the room knows what Meaghan is about to tell her anyway. “But the VC party this weekend got cancelled.” She now whispers, “Nate got in serious trouble for freaking out on this girl, and I think he’s like, going to a hospital in Portland to see what’s up with him, you know he was always fucking weird. Anyway, since he’s not going to school here now his dad pulled a bunch of funding for extracurriculars and stuff. Since a lot of his donations used to go to us, we can’t afford to rent out the Eagle Lodge like we wanted, so the party is cancelled.”

“Oh man, that blows.” Rachel says, looking more sympathetic than she sounds.

“Yeah, but we have our ways.” Meaghan winks. “Officially, the party is cancelled, unofficially, the upperclassmen are gonna go to Riley’s parents’ cabin Friday night.”

“Whoa, I bet you guys will have an even cooler time than you would’ve at the lodge.” Rachel says with a tinge of sadness.

“Of course we are, but so will you.” Meaghan says, excitedly leaning in. 

“Wait, what do you mean? I thought you said it was a party for upperclassmen?” Rachel asks, trying to make it seem like she doesn’t know exactly where this is going.

“It is, but I wanted to invite you along as a special exception.” Meaghan leans in and whispers again. “Brad, Jayden, and Tyler all asked specifically where you were today.”

Now here is the most challenging piece of acting Rachel has had to do all day; to pretend that she’s surprised these upperclassmen boys were asking after her. 

“Oh my god, really? What did they say?” Rachel says, biting her lip so subtly that it is hardly noticeable.

“Well I don’t know about Brad and Jayden, they went to Clara, but Tyler came to me right before I was gonna start the meeting and asked if we could delay it since you weren’t here, he wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” Meaghan gushes.

Rachel forces herself to blush, “Oh my god, so people want me at the party?”

“Oh don’t act like it’s much of a surprise, you’ve gotta be used to how boys are by now, looking like that as a freshman you must’ve been the Queen before you came here. Anyway, you’re in the underclassmen dorms right? I’m downstairs in the senior dorms, I’ll give you a ride Friday night.”

Rachel feels a sudden pang of guilt; she has a dress rehearsal Friday night. “That’s like, so fucking cool of you and I’m so flattered Meaghan, but...I have a play thing that night…”

“A play thing? C’mon Rachel I know acting is important for the modeling track but you can’t really be putting those drama dweebs over VC?”

“I mean I totally wouldn’t!” Rachel says, nerves hitting her for the first time since the conversation began. “It’s just that it’s the last dress rehearsal before hell week and -”

“A real hell week would be if you have to hear about how much fucking fun we all had without you.”

Rachel looks down. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” She quickly scans for a justification. “I mean I’m kind of crushing everyone else right now anyway, they need a chance to catch up. Besides, if I skip a rehearsal my understudy will finally feel like the star for a day.”

Meaghan laughs. “You are such a bitch, I love you!” Rachel dramatically flips her hair as Meaghan had earlier. “And you know, since this is all unofficial that means no supervision, and that means we can have some real fun.” She whispers again, but this time with a much more serious tone than she had prior. “Have you tried X yet?”

The nerves truly spike now. Rachel wonders what to say. She doesn’t want to seem naive or inexperienced, especially if they view her as cool enough to invite to a party like this. But on the other hand, if she lies to seem more knowledgeable she’d only look like a bigger idiot when they inevitably find her out. Drugs haven’t been a big part of Rachel’s life since coming to Blackwell. Well, aside from weed, but that hardly counts. And even then, the only other person she’s smoked with so far was that punk chick she met Saturday night. Still, she has at least a passing second-hand knowledge of these things, and perhaps with the signature Rachel Amber bravado that can be enough to assure she doesn’t seem like a loser.

“Nah, to be honest I’ve been kinda holding out because a lot of my friends said the X was pretty trash where we were.” Rachel sighs. “My body is a temple you know.”

“You are so funny.” Meaghan says in a manner that seems genuine everywhere but her eyes. “Well we should have some good shit Friday night, hopefully it’s holy enough for you.” She says as they both laugh. Meaghan’s eyes quickly scan Rachel up and down. “And you know, it’ll really help you sweat away a couple inches from your waist, I know the whole curvy thing is working for you now but you’ll probably want to tighten it up when you’re a senior and the boys your age are chasing after the cute young freshman you know? No offense, of course.” Meaghan places her hand on Rachel’s back and looks at her affectionately. “I’ll meet you Friday night, ‘kay? Facebook me!”

Rachel intuits that this is her signal, and exchanges final pleasantries with Meaghan and the lingering upperclassmen before leaving. She walks back to the dorms feeling dejected, something she hadn’t felt much since starting her term at Blackwell. Nevertheless, if people are already singling her out in the Vortex Club despite barely knowing her, it should be no trouble at all to win them over even further with more face time. The only issue is the rehearsal.

Is there a way to appease both the Vortex Club and everyone working on The Tempest? Maybe she can just claim she’s sick in her room all night...but that would be too easy to disprove. All it would take would be someone stepping up to her door, as she does right now, and knocking to realize she’s gone. There is something to be said for the drama of a sudden disappearance, but maybe being outed as a liar is not the best way right now. Perhaps it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission in this situation; or better yet, assume forgiveness.

It’s Saturday and another blur of a week has passed. Classes and rehearsals bleed together as Rachel’s focus lies solely on tonight. She’s already put her phone into Do Not Disturb, swiping away one last notification - a facebook friend request - before stuffing it into her pocket. Everyone else can wait until tomorrow. She looks in the mirror and admires her work. She’s been preparing her hair for the last few days, drying it in soft cotton t-shirts and using only her wide-toothed comb, never a brush. As a result it flows in waves over her shoulder, wild but controlled. Her eyes are perfectly flanked with winged eyeliner dramatic enough to attract attention without crossing into mall-goth territory; tonight calls for a different strategy than the punk show last week. In general, this balance is the theme of her ensemble. The goal is to attract attention without seeming desperate for said attention. Rachel briefly considered wearing a floral print dress, to fit in with Meaghen’s apparent aesthetic, but that’s not who she needs to impress. Not really. Meaghen will be gone from Blackwell next year, and there will be plenty of girls lining up to be Meaghen 2.0. But Rachel Amber can do much better than that.

She adjusts her tank top so that just a peek of her hot pink bra will shine through. In the dim light of a party like this, splashes of drama to break up an otherwise pedestrian look are the way to go. Make them think that looking is their idea.

It’s nearly time to leave for the party. Rachel goes downstairs and is greeted near the front door by Meaghen, predictably wearing a short, bright red dress and matching heels. She looks Rachel up and down and gives her a sly smile.

“Okay Rachel, I see you.” She says with a wink. “Now get that ass in the car!”

Meaghen and Rachel drive about thirty minutes outside of Arcadia Bay. They sing along and dance in their seats to the same pop sons they’ll surely be dancing to tonight. Meaghen retracts the sunroof and Rachel’s hair blows wildly behind her in the wind. For a moment she feels like she’s a kid again on Victoria’s parents’ boat, flying down the coast. As Meaghen turns down a few back roads, tall pine trees blocking out the sunset, Rachel retreats into her mind and the rest of the trip is a blur. Eventually they pull down a long, winding driveway and pull up to a gorgeous, massive cabin that is closer to a mansion than a rustic cottage retreat. A beautiful girl with dark skin and gorgeous curly hair steps down from the porch as they pull up. Meaghan parks, gets out of the car and yells with glee.

“Riley! Oh my god I’m so excited, your place is so beautiful!” She says with pure joy. Rachel isn’t sure if she’s ever seen Meaghen speak to Riley before this moment. The two exchange their greetings and compliments before Rachel is suddenly snapped into the present.

“So you’re Rachel, right?” Riley says expectantly.

“Y-yeah, I’m Rachel Amber, I’m a freshman so I’m not on the board for VC or anything.” Rachel says, more shyly than she means to.

“Damn, you look a lot better than I did as a freshman.” Riley replies.

Meaghen steps in with her hand on her hips.

“Right? This bitch!” She says with an affectation in her voice that Rachel has never heard her use before. 

Conversation shifts to gossip about who is coming, who has been sleeping with who, and who is bringing what to the party. Rachel doesn’t really know these people they’re talking about, but she listens intently, trying to absorb as many of the details as she can. More and more people begin to show up and file inside. What appears to normally be a dining room has been cleared of furniture to make way for a massive sound system and makeshift dance floor. It connects to the kitchen , which has an island that is now serving as the bar for the evening. Riley serves up some punch, and empties the last of an old bottle of vodka in it for good measure. 

Before Rachel knows it, music is playing and the party begins in earnest. She doesn’t know most of the people here, but if she has it her way they’ll all know who she is by the end of the night. 

Chloe - 2010

Chloe goes to school Monday with the borrowed clothes in her backpack. Class fails to hold her attention and she keeps daydreaming, looking out windows. She looks for Rachel in the hallway, eager to give the clothes back and thank her for everything. She kicks herself for not getting her phone number, or really any way to contact her outside of school. Chloe will have to approach her here in the hall, or at lunch, or after school somehow. She can’t seem to find her though, and despite looking for her between every class, Rachel is nowhere to be found.

She takes the bus home and keeps her head down through dinner, avoiding eye contact with anyone. When she goes to her room she stops herself from looking through old messages on her phone, and instead starts a new save file on Final Fantasy 7 for the thousandth time.

Tuesday starts out the same, Chloe once again looks unsuccessfully for Rachel during breaks between classes, but she’s stopped in the courtyard by Steph during lunch.

“Hey! What are you doing? Come sit with us.” Steph calls after Chloe. She’s sitting with her tabletop rpg group, kids Chloe has never spoken to, but has seen with Steph countless times. 

“I, uh, I gotta find someone.” Chloe replies quickly.

“Rachel? Are you looking for Rachel Amber?” Steph asks, eyebrows raised.

“What? No, how did you...what?”

“She was asking about you after set construction the other day, she must have gotten in touch with you, didn’t she?”

Chloe blushes. “I mean, yeah, but, I just need to give her something back, it’s no big deal.”

“Okay, well, I think she usually eats lunch either in the theater wing or with the Vortex Club,” Steph says with a smile. “And Chloe you had better tell me what’s up later, okay? Call me tonight?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Chloe says, only half aware of what she’s agreeing to. 

_ Fuck. I can’t go to the Vortex Club office, they’ll like, stone my loser ass to death, or something. _ Chloe walks to the theater wing and sees some of the acting students eating their lunch in tables near the auditorium. She stands near the corner, more conspicuously than she means to, and scans the scene for Rachel, but doesn’t see her anywhere. The sun shines through a window on to one of the tables and Chloe briefly remembers the morning light making Rachel’s hair glow back in the dorm room.  _ What the fuck was that. _ She snaps herself out of it.  _ Shit, well this was a wash. _ She remembers carrying some equipment from a prop closet upstairs and decides to check there, but it’s also empty.  _ Well the only place left now is the Vortex Club...I mean, what’s honestly the worst that could happen. They’re not actually going to touch me, they’ll probably just act like assholes, which everyone here does anyway. _ She makes her way through the halls to the Vortex Club office. She approaches the door and hears an eruption of laughter from within.

“And that dumb bitch actually thought she looked good, can you fucking believe it?” A woman’s voice says behind the door. Chloe backs off.

_ Who thought she looked good? Wait, no no no no no no no no, they can’t be talking about me. Unless, fuck, did Rachel show them those pictures? I fucking knew something was up, nobody would ever- _

A tall boy opens the door and looks at Chloe. 

“Do you, need something?” He asks her, perplexed. 

Chloe quickly looks into the room and sees several cocked eyebrows and a couple girls stifling laughs. No Rachel though. 

“N-no, I’m fine. Bye.” Chloe says as she walks away.

_ Stupid fucker, stupid fucking piece of shit. Can’t even find someone y-FUCK! _

“AHH! What the hell!” A girl yells as Chloe bumps into her, rounding the corner. “Watch where you’re going, slob!”

The girl seems familiar, she recognizes that light blonde hair, and not many girls are her height at Blackwell...this is the girl from the bathroom Sunday morning.

“Wait! Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Chloe calls after the girl as she turns away. The girl stops and barely looks back at her.

“Yeah, I know you weren’t.”

“Hey! You, you know Rachel Amber, right? Don’t you live in the underclassmen dorms near her?” For some reason, this question seems to have set something off in the girl, who seethes under a barely-held-together calm. 

“Why.” She asks with a scowl.

“Oh, just, I’ve been looking for her, I need to give her something.” Chloe says nervously.

“Oh okay, so you’re her drug dealer.” The girl sneers. “Well, good luck finding her, I hope you get to her before you’re late for Burnout 101.” She turns away again.

“No, fuck! It’s not, I don’t have drugs, I borrowed some clothes from her.” The girl stops. She turns around and stares daggers at Chloe.

“You borrowed. Some clothes. From her?”

“Yeah,” Chloe opens her backpack and pulls out the outfit, once folded but since fallen a bit into a lump. “She let me use these this weekend.”

She snatches the clothes from Chloe’s hands. “Is this a fucking joke?”

“No, what the...oh fuck, those are yours aren’t they? Oh fuck I’m so sorry.” Chloe begins to panic, she can feel her hands getting sweaty and nervous energy starts to build in her legs. The girl raises the clothes to her face and quickly smells them.

“Jesus Christ,” she says, recoiling in disgust, “what did you wash these in, dish soap?”

“No, just regular detergent, I’m sorry.” Chloe begins softly tapping her foot on the ground.

“Fucking figures.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Chloe says almost without realizing, connecting dots she’d barely realized were there. “Okay so you’re Victoria?”

She’s a bit taken aback. “Why?”

Chloe can’t admit that she saw her give herself an impromptu therapy session while creepily watching from the shower, so she’s got to think quickly. “It’s just, Rachel said you had a really killer wardrobe, and that I’d be really smart to try and copy your style basically.”

“She said that?” Victoria says, with significantly less venom than anything she’s said thus far.

“Yeah, but I don’t honestly think I can pull it off, I’m not really cut out for fashion.” Chloe remembers she’s pretty good at lying.

“Well, at least you know, besides, she was probably just trying to flatter both of us by saying that. You can’t take anything that girl says seriously.” Victoria says with a cold and aloof tone, suppressing a barely perceptible smile.

“Yeah, I guess.” Chloe says. She shuffles awkwardly in place. “Anyway, uh, I guess it’s good I like, bumped into you. I mean, I’m sorry for actually bumping into you, but-”

“I know.” Victoria interrupts, stopping her while she’s ahead.

“Okay, yeah anyway, do you think you could let Rachel know I dropped those clothes off? I don’t want her to think I forgot.”

Victoria laughs, with an undercurrent of resentment. “Are you kidding? She’s probably already forgotten who you are.”

Wednesday. Chloe goes to school but still can’t stop looking for Rachel. She’s not sure why, since she got the clothes to where they needed to go, but she still just wants some recognition, any recognition of what happened. Lately she’s starting to feel like it was all in her head. After school she notices she has a few missed text messages, but they’re all from Steph. She’ll get back to her later.

Thursday. Joyce tells Chloe as she walks out the door that David will be over for dinner tonight, and is going to be staying through the weekend. Wonderful. She still doesn’t see Rachel anywhere she looks at school. She puts her head down and doesn’t say a word during dinner. It’s the most peaceful meal she’s shared with David in months. Steph calls, but Chloe doesn’t pick up. She doesn’t have the energy.

Friday. No Rachel. No Answers. Nothing.

Saturday. Chloe wakes up a little after noon. She hears the television on downstairs, some sports talk show playing unreasonably loud. Thank god, it’ll give her the cover she needs to go to the bathroom without Joyce commenting on how late she slept in. When Chloe looks in the mirror she sees her bruise is nearly faded. The makeup Rachel had given her really has gotten her through better than expected. When she feels strong enough, Chloe steels herself and goes downstairs. 

“Well look who’s up! Good morning swee - Oh my god, what happened to your eye?” Joyce says as Chloe nears the living room. Joyce walks up to her and runs her hand through Chloe’s hair, examining her slightly discolored eye socket. 

“Dropped my phone on my face last night like a dumbass.” Chloe lies calmly. “Anyway,” she continues, “I’m gonna grab that old tiny DVD player from the garage, I think I’m gonna watch a movie and I don’t wanna take the TV away from you guys.” Chloe looks over at David, who has yet to acknowledge her, sitting on the couch in his t-shirt and boxer shorts.

“Well that is awfully considerate of you, are you gonna be okay in there?” Joyce asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

Chloe takes the long way, using the door near the stairs to get into the garage. She wouldn’t want to cross David’s view of the TV and ruin any goodwill she may have built up through her silence this week. A bunch of new boxes litter the floor. They must be David’s things. Gross. Chloe doesn’t have the space to process that right now, so she brushes past them and toward a box in the back of the garage. She pulls out a small, portable DVD player, but something else slips out of the box as well. Chloe reacts quickly enough to kneel down and catch it before it lands on the floor and shatters. It’s her dad’s old Polaroid camera. Her real dad, William. Chloe feels a swell of tension well up inside.  _ Fuck. Can’t deal with that right now either. _ She sets the camera down on the nearest counter and goes back upstairs.

She can’t stop thinking. With each passing day it’s been harder and harder to ignore. _What the fuck did I do. Where is Rachel, and why won’t she talk to me._ _I just need to talk to her once. Just once, to get some closure and figure out what the fuck is going on. I don’t have room for any more ghosts in my life._ Chloe opens her bedroom door and sets the DVD player down in front of her small TV. She quickly walks to her desk and opens her laptop, going back to set up the DVD player as it slowly boots up. She pulls out the DVD she’d borrowed from Rachel. Might as well give it a shot. She places the first disc in the player and checks back on her laptop. It’s functional enough for her to try the one vector of communication she hadn’t thought of, mostly since she forgets it exists most of the time anyway. With a quick search, she’s able to find what she’s looking for easily enough: Rachel Amber’s facebook profile. She hits the button to send a friend request, and promptly kills the power on her laptop. If she has the option, she’ll be checking it all day.

The DVD is ready now, and a jazzy soundtrack plays over the menu.  _ Twin Peaks? Didn’t dad used to watch this...Rachel didn’t seem like the type to watch cop shows, but I guess I don’t know her that well. _ A calming tune fills the room as the show begins and Chloe settles onto her bed to watch from across the room. At least, in some small way, she’ll get to spend part of the day with Rachel. Maybe Victoria’s right, and Rachel has already forgotten who Chloe is, but Chloe can’t let herself forget Rachel, even for a day.

Rachel - 2008

A hot, metallic taste overwhelms Rachel, but she does her best not to show her discomfort. She holds the smoke in for a few seconds and exhales, careful to avoid blowing it in anyone’s face. She bugs out her eyes and passes the bowl to her left. Rachel’s friend Kayla smirks at her from across the room.

“So, what did you think?” Kayla asks expectantly.

“Oh man,” Rachel fakes a cough, “it’s...it’s good.” She nods.

Kayla and the other three girls in the circle laugh. 

“You didn’t even inhale!” Kayla says. “I saw you puffing out your chubby cheeks like a squirrel.” She does an exaggerated impression of Rachel’s attempted hit. The others continue to laugh and Rachel feels warm, but definitely not from the drugs.

“Shut up! Okay, give me another try, I can do it.” Rachel says eagerly. 

Kayla and the others look at each other, and Kayla reaches over to open up a baggie. She pulls out a joint and holds it between her fingers. She looks around at Rachel and the other girls, who are stifling their laughter.

“This is a bit stronger,” She says, “take a hit of this, and breathe it in all the way, and then tell me how you feel. But make sure to breathe in as much as you can, okay?”

She hands Rachel the joint and pulls out a lighter, igniting it and extending it Rachel’s way. Rachel awkwardly holds the joint in her mouth and leans in toward the flame. As the paper catches fire she inhales and pulls away. She pulls the deepest breath she can manage and the end of the joint glows brightly. A much more bitter and harsh smoke goes all the way to Rachel’s lungs. She passes the joint to her left, looking down at her crossed legs and coughing the smoke out. The girls laugh again as Rachel continues to cough.

“I can’t believe you gave a thirteen-year-old a spliff, she hasn’t even smoked tobacco before has she? Of course she can’t handle it.” A girl says, through laughter, to Kayla.

“Well if she sucks at skating and sucks at smoking what good is she? I thought she might impress us!” They continue to laugh as Rachel gets up, still coughing, and walks toward the bathroom.

“Okay but don’t be too much of a bitch, it’s nice having a rich kid around.” Another girl says under her breath. 

Rachel kneels over the toilet, her throat feels like it’s on fire and her stomach is growing more and more uneasy.

“Oh my god, is she gonna hurl?” The previous girl asks.

“Hopefully,” Kayla says, “it’s nice having a rich kid around but I don’t wanna go skating with a cow.” The girls erupt in laughter, along with the occasional “Stop!” and “You’re such a bitch!” Rachel hears it all through the door to Kayla’s bedroom, still slumped over the toilet. She sobs, and wretches, and sobs some more. 

Someday they’ll brag about how they used to know Rachel Amber. Someday she will be a star, and they will be nothing. Someday everyone will want her, and nobody will know they exist. Rachel repeats all this to herself, as she empties her stomach into the toilet. They can laugh, the boys at school can harass her, and her family can ignore her all they want, but Rachel will make sure they all regret it. Someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like timeskips.

**Author's Note:**

> Major major major thanks to the wonderful [Morven](https://https://chaseprice.tumblr.com/) [vicepoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicepoint) for both proofreading and inspiring me to actually get to work on writing this. You're the best <3


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